Author James Whitall " I cling to my staff for support, like a vine to its dry pole, and death summons me to Hades: " Be not deaf as a stone, Gorgos! Is the thought of three or four summers beneath the sun so sweet to you?" " The old man said this and died. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments